


Hope

by FacelessTwins



Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Backstory, Flashbacks, Gen, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-23
Updated: 2017-04-23
Packaged: 2018-10-19 16:37:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,723
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10643832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FacelessTwins/pseuds/FacelessTwins
Summary: While wandering the gardens of Northwest Manor, flowers seem to have Preston recall a few memories. Some pleasant and others grim.





	

The day was warm, the sky was a bright blue, and there was just a slight breeze that would cool you off if you were too hot. It was a good day. A rather normal day. Especially for the town of Gravity Falls, the most abnormal town in Oregon. The day was so nice that Preston Northwest, the richest man in town, decided to take a walk around the gardens of Northwest Manor. He breathed in the smell of the flowers scattered around the gardens as he walked, his eyes shifting around to find an olive green butterfly fluttering near the white tulips. Preston approached the flowers, kneeling down to get a better look at them. His mother had planted them when he was around seven. They were her favorite flowers. He smiled softly, his eyes taking on a gentle look. He wanted to pick one, but was afraid he'd damage the poor things. So fragile and delicate, just as the state his mother had been in. Preston closed his eyes and listened to the birds chirping in the forest, the occasional breeze that caused the grass to rustle, the bees buzzing by the flowers to get nectar, and the soft keys that he used to hear his mother play from in the mansion.

_The fox eagerly stared at Preston as he tossed the stick for it to fach. Preston ran after his fox, a wide smile on his face, his curious, childish nature still evident in his eyes._

_“Be careful, sweetie!” Preston's mother, Sophia Northwest, called out as she followed him._

_Preston didn’t respond, finding that he was to excited and eager to visit the gardens. It had been many months since he last visited his mom's garden. He loved going there and missed the picnics he would have with her. For some reason, that Preston was unsure of, Sophia decided to show him the garden today._ _She was wearing a plain white dress with short sleeves and her curly dark hair was tied back into a half ponytail._ _Preston, who had been in a suite moments previous, was wearing khakis with a light blue button up shirt and sneakers._ _Usually Preston was supposed to stay inside studying, always wearing a dress suite, but whenever his dad would leave town for a few hours Sophia put Preston in comfortable clothes and let him go explore the grounds of the Mansion._

_“I planted some new flowers you might like,” Sophia called, as she continued to follow her son. Preston turned to face her, pausing his run “You did?!” he asked, excitedly, running up to her and tugging at her dress skirt with wide eyes “What kind? What kind?” he asked, eyes wide with_ _excitement._ _Sophia giggled, ruffling Preston's hair “It's a surprise,” she said in a hushed tone while placing a finger to her lips. Preston grinned wide “Then what are we waiting for? Let's go!” he exclaimed, tugging at his mom's arm, making her walk faster._

_Once at the garden, Preston began to look around, trying to find the new flowers that his mom had planted._   _Hunter, Preston's fox, sniffed at the ground, trying to find a new scent, "Ah-ha!” Preston exclaimed, pointing at the newly found flower bed “I found them!” he said victoriously. Sophia approached him, smiling softly “Do you remember what they're called?” she asked, looking down at Preston. He nodded “White tulips! Right?” he asked, looking up at his mother. She nodded “Mhm. Do you remember what they mean?” she asked._

“Forgiveness… Right?” Preston asked, slowly opening his eyes. He looked down at the tulips, staring at them longingly, sadness clutching at his heart. He swallowed a lump that had formed in his throat, remembering that shortly after the flowers were planted, she had passed away.

 _The sun was shining high in the sky, the air was warm, kids could be heard playing a game in the distance. The atmosphere was calm, peaceful, and…_ happy _. It was as if the world was mocking Preston with its happiness. Though this wouldn’t be the first time that he was mocked. He was called names frequently by the kids in town, usually behind his back. Preston stood beside his father, staring at the coffin his mother was in; oak wood, painted black, with little white designs scattered around it. The two were dress appropriately for the funeral; black tuxes. Preston held a bundle of white tulips close to his chest, a small frown on his face. Not many people showed up for the burial, but that is to be expected when you are a Northwest; only family (son, daughter, wife, and husband) are allowed to attend. The coffin was lowered into the ground slowly. It was in that moment, Preston’s once curious, childish behavior left him. He knew what death was, yet he had to hide it behind a mask that his father forced him to wear._

_Nathaniel Northwest was a man of few words. Preston immediately shaped up, listening to his father without a second thought. There may have been a few incidents that caused Preston to earn a slap to the face, speaking out of turn, muttering something sarcastic under his breath, small things that he did his best not to do. He was no longer a curious, joyful child. He was made into an unfeeling ghost, who married into a loveless marriage. He was broken, and kept it hidden, repeatedly telling himself that he couldn’t break character, fearing that his father would come back from the dead and scold him, while ringing a bell._

Preston swallowed thickly, shifting his gaze to the side, not wanting to look at the flowers that reminded him of his mother “You had died five months after planting the tulips…” he mumbled quietly, as if he didn’t want to disrupt the nature around him “After you passed away, father locked up your garden and forbade me from taking one step in it. Then he died. This is the first time I’ve actually had the guts to enter the garden…” he trailed off, not sure what else to say. At this point he was just rambling, talking to himself, and Northwests don’t ramble or talk to themselves. Preston stood up, dusting off his knees. He turned on his heels and walked over to the light pink rose bush. He stared at the bush, recalling that this was the first thing he helped his mother plant. He blinked a few times, attempting to see past the blurriness that was forming in front of him from tears that wanted to escape. The last thing Preston wanted to do was cry, finding that if he did, he’d be reminded of his father's disapproving face and the ringing of a small bell.

 _”Northwest's don't cry,”_ a thought spoke up in the back of Preston’s mind. He shook his head, releasing a soft sigh. He smiled softly, staring at the roses with a rare happiness that was in his eyes.

_Sophia gently pressed the keys of the massive instrument, making beautiful sounds emit from the black piano. Preston was seated on her lap, eyes wide with wonder as his eyes scanned over the black and white keys “It's so pretty, mom,” he said quietly, as if he would disrupt the music Sophia was making if he spoke any louder. Sophia smiled softly, nodding her head “I could teach you how to play, if you'd like,” she said. Preston's eyes widen and he shifted around in Sophia's lap, looking up at her “Really?!” Preston’s voice picked up in volume excitement evident in his eyes. Sophia responded with a nod, taking hold of her son's hands and looking them over “You've got perfect piano hands. Long, slender, and delicate,” she explained, running her thumb over the back of Preston’s small hands. Preston smiled, shifting his gaze to his hands that his mother still held “So, you’ll teach me how to play?” he asked. Sophia smiled, looking down at her son “Do you want to learn?” she asked. Preston nodded “Yes!” he chirped “I wanna learn how to play!”_

_Sophia chuckled at her son's excitement “Alright, but you've got to promise me something,” she began. Preston looked up at her, smiling wide, waiting for her to continue, “You have to promise me that you'll always treat the piano with a kind, gentle touch, and treat it as if it was a little animal,” she said. Preston nodded “I promise mom! I'll be extra gentle with it and treat it like a baby!”_

The words seemed to echo as Preston shifted his gaze to the mansion, looking at one of the windows that was covered by a thick curtain. He frowned sadly “I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise…” he mumbled “Father left me no choice but to lock it up once you passed.”

He took a deep breath, doing his best to control the emotions that were mixing in his heart, repeating to himself over and over again that he was a Northwest, and they don’t get worked up over things like this, that they only care about business and money. Preston didn't like his father, not by any means, but he didn't hate him either. Nathaniel took care of him and fed him, clothed him, put a roof over his head, but he lacked the compassion and gentleness that his mother made up for.

Preston shifted his gaze to the dark pink rose bush that sat beside the light pink roses. He walked over to it, carefully plucking one of the roses from the bush, being gentle, and making sure he didn't damage the bush. Preston couldn't help but smile, being reminded of Stan Pines.

_The first time the two meet was nothing short of a disaster. Stan had absolutely no regard for human decency and treated Preston like some commoner. The first few times they met to discuss business didn't end well and neither of them got anything done. Stan was… frustrating, to say the least. He wasn’t someone Preston imagined himself being friends with, not in the slightest. One day, however, Preston slipped up. It had started with Stan mentioning how terrible his father was. He wasn’t abusive physically, mentally though... was a whole different story. Preston had the idea to mention his father as well, finding that if he was going to have to work with this conman, they would need to get along. That small conversation, to the surprise of both men, led to something of a friendship; though Preston would never say it out loud or admit to it._

_“You seem stressed,” Stan stated, one afternoon, during a meeting in Preston's office. Preston blinked, somewhat surprised by the sudden turn of topic. He was seated at his desk, going over notes with Stan, who had cut him off mid sentence, “What?” he asked, raising an eyebrow quizzically as he looked up at Stan, “You seem stressed,” Stan repeated “Like, more then usual,” he added. Preston shook his head “No, I'm fine,” he said calmly, though on the inside he was surprised that Stan even noticed his stress at all. Usually he kept his emotions well hidden. However, Stan is a conman, so maybe he can tell when people are lying. Stan crossed his arms, raising an eyebrow “Pres, I lie to people for a living. You pick up a thing or two on telling when someone isn't being truthful,” he said, as if he read Preston’s mind. Preston sighed, eyes scanning over the paperwork in front of him “Look, we have more important things to…” he trailed off and shifted his gaze to Stan “Hang on,” he began “Did you just call me ‘Pres?’” he asked. Stan responded with a shrug “I figure we've been friends for a while, might as well come up with a nickname for ya,” he explained. Preston stared at Stan, his expression taking one of confusion “Friends?” Preston echoed. The word left an odd taste in his mouth. Especially since he's never had any friends before; aside from Hunter, but his father had taken him away after a rather… graphic incident that resulted in Preston losing the last thing that actually made him happy. Stan nodded “That's usually what you call people that you've come to like,” he said “You do know what a friend is, right?”_

_Preston continued to stare at Stan, his expression taking on a blank look. After Preston didn't respond for a few seconds Stan let out a bitter chuckle “You've seriously never had a friend when you were a kid?” he asked, his eyes showing signs of sadness and... understanding? No, not_ _likely. Preston's mind was just playing tricks on him. He_ _swallowed thickly, finding the conversation topic bothersome. He nodding, “Kids, usually avoided me…” he trailed off and shook his head. No, no, absolutely not. Northwests do not talk about the past; they focused strictly on the present and_ only _the present. Preston didn't even want to talk about the past. He refused to allow himself to. No matter how much a childish voice screamed over and over that he wasn't okay, that he need to,_ had _to talk to someone. If he didn't he'd cave in on himself and everything he had kept bottled up for so many years would spill out. Preston cleared his throat and looked_ _down at the paperwork that was supposed to be looked over "Back to the discussion at hand,” he quickly stated. Stan frowned, holding out his hands making a gesture for Preston to stop "Hang on!” he began, his voice taking on a sad tone “You can't just pretend you're okay. You can't just go through life lying to yourself about how you really feel," he said._ _Preston sighed in annoyance “First of all, I'm not pretending how I feel, and I most certainly don't lie to myself," he snapped,_ "Then what are you doing right now?" _a thought asked. Preston ignored it, "S_ _econd of all, we have business to discuss and I'd like to finish this, preferably,_ today _,” he grumbled in annoyance. Stan crossed his arms, an irritated expression briefly crossing his face before it was replaced with a blank look "You are a frustrating, cruel, selfish, holding yourself up on a high pedestal, rich jerk,” he deadpanned. Preston felt his blood boil at Stan's sudden statement. He stood up from his seat, glaring at Stan with a fiery rage “How dare you! Do you have_ any _idea who you're talking to?!” he growled. Stan didn't falter under Preston's cold stare “I'm talking to someone who grew up with a terrible dad. I'm talking to someone who is an exact copy of his dad. I'm talking to someone who hates himself everyday because of the way he acts, but worries that if he does anything about it he'll be seen as ‘Unfit to be a Northwest.’ I'm talking to someone who hides behind a mask because that's the only way he knows how to survive.”_

 _Preston swallowed thickly, feeling himself tremble. Everything that Stan said, it was_ true _… It was true and Preston_ hated _it. He hated how truthful everything was, because it_ hurt _. It_ hurt _and brought back so many memories he'd just as soon forget. Stan frowned, his eyes taking on a softer tone “But you don't have to be that someone,” he said softly. Preston shifted his gaze “But…”_

“I can't…” Preston blinked a few times, finally taking notice of the tears that had made their way down his cheeks. He wiped them away and took a deep breath _“Northwests don't cry,”_  Nathaniel's voice spoke up. Preston sighed, staring down at the dark pink rose “People cry though… And I'm… A person…” he mumbled, attempting to reassure himself, _“You're a wall. An exact copy of your father. You are not a person,”_ a dark voice spoke up in the back of his mind.

“Dad! Mom needs you for something!” Pacifica called out from the back door of the mansion.

Preston quickly dropped the dark pink rose, pulling on his usual facade; a bored emotionless face. Before he turned to exit the garden he caught a glimpse of a bundle of iris'. He smiled softly, taking a deep breath. He turned on his heels, exiting the garden "Coming!” he called, quickening his pace.

**Author's Note:**

> Well... This happened... None cannon backstory for the character that can be shaped to be something other then a jerk. We sort of got the idea from Journal 3, and thought "Why not make a story for Preston, since not many people plan to give him a good backstory," and by good backstory we mean make him something other then a spoiled, selfish, sadistic jerk. Anywho, hope you enjoyed and thank you for reading. Reviews are appreciated!


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